


Blind

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Banter, Blind Date, Enemies to Friends, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Jaime Lannister just wants to go on *one* date without his bodyguard, Brienne Tarth, interfering. So he sets her up with a date of her own.





	Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write a bodyguard AU, so I did. I hope you enjoy! :)

Jaime Lannister let the spray from the shower sluice down his bare torso once more before he reached for the controls. Wiping his face clear of water, Jaime then opened the fogged-up doors of the walk-in shower. After wrapping a towel loosely around his waist, Jaime reached for the can of deodorant on the counter. He shook; _empty. _The housekeeper must not have restocked. Suddenly, an idea struck him. _Tarth will have some. _She was always so prepared, and always smelled so fresh and nice.

Opening the bathroom door, Jaime padded across his penthouse apartment to the rooms of his in-house bodyguard.

Brienne Tarth, of Stormbreaker Security, had been with Jaime for eighteen months now at his father's insistence. His kidnapping by some of Aerys' Targaryen's more _sinister _associates had taken its toll on Jaime, both physically and mentally. Even after those men had been found and imprisoned, the death threats from all the people Targaryen's financial fund had ruined kept coming. _I tried to help you, _Jaime felt like screaming whenever they accosted him in the street. _I lost my hand because I went to the authorities for you. _But they didn't care. They just wanted their pound of flesh. Hence Brienne Tarth.

She wasn't in her room when Jaime knocked, so he eased open the door and stepped inside. _Neat as a pin. _Dripping water onto the plush carpet, Jaime ducked into the bathroom and found her deodorant. A quick spray and he'd be out before she'd even know.

"Mister Lannister, do I need to remind you of the house rules?"

_Fuck. _"No, Ms Tarth, you do not." He turned. "But I was out of deodorant."

Tarth didn't say a word. Jaime thought he might have got lucky, and his honesty might have saved him another lecture about her _personal space. _But then he noticed Tarth's blue eyes making a slow path across his body. They took in the muscles of his chest; the trail of hair leading to the low hanging towel. He was wet, and breathing slightly heavier from breaking her rules. Tarth swallowed; blinking as if trying to shake the image of him standing practically naked in her bedroom. Jaime didn't know who Tarth had protected before him, but it certainly wasn't anyone as attractive.

"I could take a picture for you, if you'd like." Jaime smirked, teasing his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Unnecessary, Mister Lannister. You haven't got anything I haven't seen before." Brienne's eyes widened in alarm. "Do _not _take off your towel to prove a point!"

Jaime sighed theatrically as he circled Brienne and moved to sit on her bed. "You're no fun."

"I'm not supposed to be fun, Mister Lannister. I'm here to keep you safe."

"And you _are. _Keeping me from smelling like body odour on our date tonight."

He lounged back against the crisp sheets – red and gold, to match the rest of the apartment's décor. He traced a thread of embroidery on the duvet cover. Jaime wondered, if their date went well, whether Brienne bring him back here. _Probably not. Probably consider it a dereliction of duty. _Shame. In the eighteen months that they'd known each other, he hadn't seen Brienne with another man. Or a woman. If anyone needed to get laid, it was his bodyguard with the broadsword shoved up her arse.

"About tonight, Mister Lannister," Brienne said, smacking his hand when he went to snoop through her bedside drawers. "I don't see why you're insisting on me joining you at the table. I'd be much more comfortable standing nearby."

"I'm sure you would. But my date will _not, _and I'd actually like to get a second date this time."

The few dates Jaime had gone on since losing his hand and gaining a bodyguard had been disasters, every single one. He'd knocked over wine glasses and spilled champagne. His food had to be pre-sliced, and learning to eat with his left hand had not been an alluring sight. Then there was Tarth's looming presence. All the wait-staff went through background checks; she'd even searched the sommelier. On his _single successful evening, _his date had leaned in for a goodnight kiss. Brienne had interceded, claiming the young woman's lipstick could be poisoned_. _He did not get a second date.

After complaining heavily to his brother, Tyrion had come up with a brilliant idea. A double blind date, with one of their father's employees engaging Ms Tarth in conversation. It was genius to everyone who was not Brienne Tarth.

"Mister Lannister, I must _again _insist that this is…_ridiculous. _Will you _stop_ that?" Jaime had started poking at her pillows, maybe even lifting one to see what things his bodyguard wore to bed. He only saw her in a suit; rigid, pressed, not a single crease or speck of lint. _Boring. _"I will have nothing to talk about with this person as I will be focussed _solely _on your safety. That's why your father hired me."

"But who pays your salary now, hmm?" Jaime slid off Brienne's bed and moved to stand mere inches from her. Jaime clutched his towel as he went on his toes to gain that extra inch that put them at eye level. "Listen, Tarth, just give me tonight, will you? And the next time I try to put my life in danger according to your very _broad _description, you can say no. Alright?"

She considered his proposal. Then nodded. "Alright."

Jaime grinned. "_Good. _Now, is that what you're wearing for a first date?"

"Get out."

Jaime threw a wink in Tarth's direction before he slowly sauntered out of her bedroom and back into the hall. He allowed the towel to drop _just _low enough to bring a pink flush to the usually stoic Tarth's cheeks. Her door drew closed with some considerable force. Chuckling to himself, Jaime returned to his own room and went to dress for his date. Tailored suit; slight spray of cologne. He wore a little stubble on his cheeks and jaw that only added to his sex appeal. The prosthetic hand was the last addition. He didn't particularly care for it, but he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself tonight.

The same could not be said for Tarth, who emerged at the same time from her room. She'd foregone the ill-fitting black suit in favour of tight blue jeans and a white blouse open at her throat. She was even wearing _earrings. _He stared, open-mouthed, as they both approached the staircase that took them to the first floor.

"Not a word. I still have my Taser."

Jaime refrained from commenting, although it _killed _him not to say anything. It would even be complimentary for once. The men's trousers she usually wore did not do those legs justice. The white blouse brought out the bright blue of her eyes. Her only concession to date wear were the earrings (simple studs, sapphires), and a nude lipstick that was designed to detract from her mouth, but instead drew Jaime's eye to it. Of course, even if she wore different clothes, she was still Brienne Tarth. Still insisted on the private elevator; still kept their bodies pressed close together as they left the apartment building. Still used an earpiece as Podrick, Jaime's new driver and a recent hire at Stormbreaker Security, pulled the car around to drive them to the restaurant.

Fosse à ours was a new restaurant from a talented Riverlands chef that Jaime had been introduced to in Harrenhal three years ago. It was the perfect choice for a first date: classy, but not overly romantic. The maître d' welcomed Jaime and Brienne as they arrived and, at his bodyguard's insistence, sat them at a corner table in the back. In another life, Jaime would have insisted on the patio. But his life was now in the hands of one Brienne Tarth, so they took a table with a clear view of the kitchen, bathroom, and the front door.

Jaime moved to pull out Brienne's chair when they reached the table. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Being gentlemanly," he said, before taking out his own. "Thought I'd get in some practice with you before my real date arrives."

"Charming. She's a lucky girl."

Both sat, and waited for their dates. They were sitting next to each other facing the entrance; Jaime close to the wall. With nothing else to occupy him, he turned to Brienne. The ends of her hair were still curling from a recent shower; there was a bruise just visible underneath the collar of her blouse from when she'd tackled a violent former investor two days before. Brienne was always close by; lingering behind him like an extra shadow. But she'd never been so _close. _He could smell melons and strawberries; probably from her shampoo. Her hands, usually so steady, fiddled with the stem of the wine glass as she turned it over; indicating she would remain sober for the duration of dinner. As the door to the restaurant creaked open, Brienne's eyes narrowed and her body tensed and relaxed in a split second. She was like water; the motion in her limbs fluid.

Jaime was suddenly gasping for a drink.

Thankfully, one of the waiters brought a jug of water and filled all four glasses. Brienne took a sip of his first, leaving an imprint of her lipstick around the rim. "Damn."

"It's fine." Jaime took the glass before she could swap them. "You never know, they could have smeared poison around the glass."

"Don't joke about such things, Mister Lannister. Your safety is—"

"—of paramount importance, I know. Just…try and enjoy yourself tonight, will you?"

Just then, the first of their dates arrived. Jeyne worked at an auction house Tyrion used often, and had readily agreed to a blind date with Jaime. She was pretty, _very _pretty. Pink lipstick; bright smile. Several heads turned to watch her approach the table. Including Brienne, whose gaze narrowed with every clack of heels against the stone floor. _She's not a threat, Tarth, _he thought, _unless you're secretly in love with me, and then maybe she is. _

"Jaime?" Jeyne said, as if his face hadn't been plastered on every news channel and front page after the Aerys debacle. He stood, and eased out Jeyne's chair so she could join their table. "It's so nice to meet such a gentleman. Most of my dates wouldn't know chivalry if he paid for the cheque! I wish there were more men like you." 

Jaime laughed as he retook his seat. "There are no men like me, Jeyne, _only me._" Beside him, Brienne snorted into her water. "Apologies, this is Brienne Tarth, my security manager."

"Oh," Jeyne said, wearing a polite smile as she addressed the tall woman sitting across from her. "What is it that you do for Jaime?"

"I stop him from being poisoned, stabbed, shot, blown up. I'm his bodyguard."

"But Brienne has her own date tonight, which will give us a little privacy." Jaime reached across the table to take Jeyne's hand. "My brother's told me nothing but wonderful things about you and your talents in the auction house. Tell me, if I was up for bid, how much do you think I'd go for?"

Jeyne tittered; already putty in his hands. This part was always the easiest: he knew sweet words; things that would make a woman grow weak at the knees. Of course, growing up with a face like his and the bank account that he had, he'd never really had to try very hard. It was why his longer relationships faltered: Jaime struggled to be open, and the women struggled when he closed his cheque book. Maybe Jeyne would be different.

Brienne suddenly rose beside him, and Jaime noticed that a man had approached their table. His beard was red and neatly trimmed; his hair slick with considerable product. He eyed Brienne; nostrils flaring. "I'm Ron, Ron Connington."

"Our fourth!" Jaime cried, ushering Connington to the table. He didn't know much about the man, other than that he worked in Lannister Holdings on a much, _much _lower floor than Jaime. He quickly found out, however, that the man didn't have any manners. He didn't even greet his date. Jaime sighed. "Shall we order?"

Menus opened, and Connington held his high enough to block out the sight of Brienne's face from across the table. Beside him, Brienne either did not notice or did not want to cause a scene. "I think I'll have the salad."

"Don't be boring, Tarth," Jaime said, closing his own menu. "Have the steak; the chef made a similar dish for me back in Harrenhal and its divine. The entire dinner is on me, by the way, so everyone get what you want." 

Connington closed his menu, but kept his gaze fixed upon the tiny candles meant to cast their date in soft light. "I'll have the lobster. And some Arbor Red."

A better man would have offered to pay for, at the very least, his own date's dinner. But it was quickly becoming clear that Ron Connington was _not _a better man, or indeed a good man. After they'd ordered their starters and entrees, Jaime asked Jeyne a series of questions about her work at the auction house; enquired over her travels to other parts of Westeros and the Free Cities. Whilst Jeyne chattered on, the other half of the table remained deathly quiet. If Brienne was silent in order to take in their surroundings – to do her _job _– Jaime could understand. But Connington refused to engage her.

"That's wonderful, Jeyne," Jaime said, cutting off her story about visiting a craft fair in the Riverlands. "You know, Ron, Brienne is a rather incredible woman. She's trained in several forms of martial arts, can wield a replica broadsword better than any knight from the old stories, and even studied water dancing in Braavos."

"Okay."

Jaime took a gulp of wine; his lips pressing against the now-familiar smear of Brienne's lipstick on the glass. "She's _obsessed _with history: we can't really go to the cinema now; too afraid someone's going to off me from the projector room." Jeyne squeaked. "But we have movie nights at home and every time Brienne picks, it _always _has to involve some form of sword-fighting."

"I never hear you complaining."

"That's because I love those movies, too." Jaime shrugged. When she'd first moved into his home, Brienne had never joined in any activity in their now shared living space. But one evening he'd been watching the first movie in the Arthur Dayne trilogy, and he'd caught Brienne mouthing the words as she poured herself a drink in the kitchen. Now she was his regular movie companion, even if she did insist on sitting on the other sofa. With three sets of eyes staring at him, Jaime realised he'd gone somewhere else. _Shit. _"What movies do you like, Ron? And you, Jeyne? Open question for the table."

The starters arrived, and Jeyne launched into a review of the romantic comedy she had last seen. "I'm just _obsessed _with that trope of two people falling in love without even knowing it. They're always roommates, or best friends…I just love watching them fall in love and pine for the other person; not realising that they want them, too."

Jaime sighed, leaning back automatically as Brienne took a bite out of his king crab salad. She was flushed pink rather than a mottled purple, so he guessed it was okay to eat. "A little unrealistic, I think. Two people couldn't be that oblivious." He looked at his salad, and then at Brienne's food. "I will pay you one hundred dragons to swap starters with me."

"Nope. I've already tasted yours; not interested." 

"Two hundred dragons."

The black pudding with poached egg and crumbled crispy pork was making Jaime's mouth water. But Brienne had already broken the skin of the egg, allowing the yolk to coat her fork and plate. Sighing, Jaime toyed with his salad. Jeyne was taking a picture of her food, whilst Connington seemed to be scrolling through a popular dating app. He swiped left on two potential candidates whilst his _actual _date sat right in front of him. Brienne could keep her starter; the good food a compromise for truly _shocking _company.

Things did not improve as the evening went on. Connington guzzled his way through two bottles of rather expensive Arbor Red; wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when it dribbled onto his chin. Jeyne picked at her entrée whilst asking him a series of questions, to which Jaime provided monosyllabic answers. It wasn't his fault that he was trying to engage the entire table in conversation and failing miserably. The highlight of the meal so far was the food; Jaime's steak melted in his mouth, as did the glazed carrots. Brienne had opted for the rabbit: pink and succulent, resting on a bed of roast potatoes and parmesan. She speared some of the meat and left it on the corner of Jaime's plate.

"As a thank you for letting me try the steak."

He smirked, trying to hide his pleasure at her gesture. "Did I have a choice?"

The worst part of the meal, however, came shortly after their plates were cleared. A young woman was visiting each table with a basket of roses, ingeniously crafted out of red paper. Jaime handed the young woman two stags and bought a rose for Jeyne, who simpered sweetly. The woman then asked Connington if he'd like to purchase one for Brienne. He waved her away.

"Come on, don't you want to buy a beautiful rose for a beautiful lady?"

Connington snorted. "Brienne the beauty; that's a laugh." He finished his glass of wine, then reached for the bottle on the table and drained the last few drops into the stemware. "No, _no, _I'm not wasting good money on the likes of _that._"

"_Fine,_" Jaime snapped, tired of this man's dismissive attitude of Jaime's generosity, and his perfectly fine date. He dug in his pocket for a single dragon, and held it out to the woman. "I'll take another for Brienne. At least one of us on this table has _eyes._"

Connington just laughed; his arm snaking out to snag a passing waitress. "Another bottle, sweetling. _He's paying._"

Jaime's chair scraped across the stone floor as he stood up, green eyes blazing at the man in front of him. Brienne soon joined him; a light hand resting upon his arm. She was hired to protect him from all manner of threats, including getting into a fistfight with one of his father's employees. Even onehanded, Jaime could beat Ron Connington. Smirking, he imagined smacking his prosthetic across the man's jaw; spilling his mouthful of Arbor Red across the floor.

Instead, he just said, "I have to piss. Brienne?"

She stepped into the galley between the tables first; Jaime quickly followed. Connington eyed them. "She has to help you in there, Lannister?"

"Yes, she has to hold my cock. It's rather heavy."

Jaime patted the man on the shoulder as they passed; allowing Brienne to accompany him to the bathroom without argument. She checked the two bathroom stalls, locked the door, and left Jaime to stand at the urinal whilst he pissed. The first time she'd done this, he'd made a litany of crude remarks determined to make her leave, or reduce her to a flustered mess. Today, they were both silent. Brienne simply stood in the corner with her arms crossed. He shouldn't feel bad. Connington was only here to keep Brienne occupied whilst he enjoyed a date without his bodyguard's interference. But there was no call for such behaviour.

He might call her boring, but she was just dedicated to her job. Others might call her ugly, but Jaime found her singular in a kingdom full of women like Jeyne.

Making a decision, Jaime shook off his cock and zipped it up in his trousers. He then diligently washed his hands, whilst acting as if he was simply making conversation. "I thought I recognised one of the other diners. The office, maybe. Or that coffee shop I'm not allowed to visit anymore because you deemed the sightlines _inadequate_. Maybe the courtroom."

Brienne peeled herself away from the wall. "The courtroom? Mister Lannister, are you saying you recognised someone here from Aerys Targaryen's trial?"

_No. _"Maybe? Yes, I think so."

"For the love of the Seven." Brienne pressed a finger to her earpiece. "Podrick, bring the car around. We have a potential assailant; I'll take Mister Lannister out the back entrance."

Jaime didn't have time to voice his objections (not that he would; leaving was rather part of the plan), as Brienne had grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and shoved him out the bathroom door. She then pressed one hand atop his head to keep him low, before melding her body to his as she negotiated their departure from the restaurant. She was warm, and firm, and Jaime rather enjoyed the sensation as she hustled him outside. All night long she had been reserved, withdrawn. Seeing her in her element was like hearing a lion roar: natural, powerful.

Outside, a town car had pulled up at the end of the alley. Podrick was already half out the door and opening up the back so Brienne could practically toss Jaime onto the vinyl seats. In a matter of seconds, Brienne was beside him and Podrick had sped away from the kerb.

Door closed, Lannister secured, Brienne addressed their driver. "Straight home, Payne, and contact the office to see if we can get video surveillance from the restaurant. I want to see who we're dealing with."

"Cancel that order, Pod," Jaime spoke, tapping out an apology text to Jeyne and paying the bill online (all but what Connington had ordered). "Take us to the gelato place; you know the one."

"Mister Lannister, this is a serious matter!"

"I agree; we left before dessert."

"Mister Lannister, I don't think you realise–_oh._" The corners of Brienne's mouth flicked up in a smile as she realised he'd left for _her. _Jaime lounged back in the seat, grinning as she tried desperately not to smile herself. "You didn't have to do that, Mister Lannister."

"Of course I did. His behaviour was unacceptable, and I don't pay you enough to sit through it."

Brienne frowned. "But what about your date?"

"We'll rearrange something."

His answer seemed to satisfy Brienne. A shame, then, that Jeyne hadn't satisfied him. She was pretty, _yes, _and sweet, _yes, _but Jaime wasn't sure that he wanted that in a woman. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted someone who shared his interests. Someone who was kind, and dedicated, and that he found attractive without necessarily fitting Westeros' narrow ideals of beauty. Someone he could enjoy sitting on a sofa with; eating popcorn and watching the same sword-fighting movie they'd watched the previous weekend.

Jaime stole a glance at his bodyguard. Brienne was staring at the crushed paper petals of the rose he'd bought. He didn't stop watching her until Podrick pulled up in front of the gelato parlour.

He'd been wrong, before. People really could be that oblivious.


End file.
